


Too Close To Touch

by orphan_account



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: AU, Dark, Dark!Tony, I'm imagening Garfield, Imagine your favorite Spiderman, M/M, Warnings Will Change, dark!deadpool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 08:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After being left by Wade, who he thought was the love of his life, Peter laid his life in Tony Starks hands.Wade, after his "cancer-treatment" fucking him up, obsesses over Peter both from a distance and from up close.Tony, seemingly doing everything in his power to help Peter, might be doing the exact opposite."Yeah, Peter definitely was made to be enjoyed. But was he made to be looked at, or was he made to be eaten?"





	Too Close To Touch

Something Wade was really taking notice of – and had been noticing since he first started stalking the younger man – was that Peter had really upped his game when it came to dressing. He was dressing sexy now, actually aware of his own body and what made him look good. Of course, everything looked good on him, but some things he just wore better.  
Out were the baggy jeans and mismatched, printed T-shirts and shapeless jackets. Now there was pants that showed of his legs, his hips, his ass. T-shirts with cool designs, shirts in complementing colors or cozy and oversized, but oh so fashionable sweaters. That grey, slim coat that reached just beneath his butt.  
But still the green, high converse. No matter how worn they were, how the white was a mixture of sooty black and light beige.  
He was still just as beautiful as always, just as pretty with his soft, brown hair and bushy brows and pouty, uneven lips – stretched into an uneven smile. But no matter how expensive clothes Stark put the boy into, Peter didn’t look expensive. He didn’t look snooty, or shiny, or unattainable. Even when he was very, very unattainable. Very, very out of reach. Finding Peter had been like putting his hand into a bowl of pearls. Real, white, glittering pearls which people had searched for on the bottom of the vast sea. And his fist closed around a handful of them, and he’s pulled them up, and opened his hand, and among these perfect, perfect little balls of worth – there he lay. Aqua green and with Wades face mirrored on it’s smooth surface. A ball of plastic. And the merchant would scoff and say; “I don’t know how it ended up there. It’s just plastic. It’s worth nothing to you.”  
But it was worth everything to Wade. Why would he want that which was expensive and unattainable, when he could have something so close to him, and yet so beautiful?  
It was a weird thought. Weird thought came often to him nowadays. Thought that was him, but it wasn’t really him at all.  
Like he sometimes would think of Peter like he always did – like this beautiful angel that had to be protected and cherished and treated with the outmost care, because he was innocent and trusting and good.  
And sometimes the other – the new – Wade would take over, and think that beautiful things like Peter was made to be used and destroyed.  
Peter was like a present – beautifully wrapped.  
Or a cake, so carefully and skillfully made, that Wade didn’t even wanna touch it as to not make a single dent. But then again he wanted to throw himself over it, and devour it, and eat and eat until nothing was left. “It’s meant to be enjoyed after all,” the new Wade thought.  
Yeah, Peter definitely was made to be enjoyed. But was he made to be looked at, or was he made to be eaten?

“You’re basically a father to me.”  
Peter had never felt more like an idiot. He’d always been awkward and said a lot of stupid things, but this was just too much. And way too vulnerable.  
He felt so close to Mr. Stark, and the man had been there for him ever since he got his powers. He’d assured him, helped him and kept him safe. He’d bought him clothes and a phone and a computer, and sometimes – often – he would send over groceries to where Peter and May lived, because it was no secret they were struggling with money. Peter had been reluctant to take anything at first, but Stark had kept on insisting, and as Peter began taking, Stark had seemed so genuinely happy to help. And then May had died, and Stark had given him a shoulder to cry on while he paid for everything involving the funeral. And now, Stark was asking Peter to move in with him. Not offering, but asking.  
“You’re twenty-three now, and not a teen anymore, but you’ve been through a lot and you need time to mourn and gather yourself. I’d worry too much, knowing you lived in some apartment by yourself, even with your powers. Here you can work in the lab as much as you want, and you know that when you’re ready, you’re always welcome to work in my company. It’s a big house, to say the least. You’ll barely notice I’m here.”  
And Peter had smiled and told Stark not to worry about Peter noticing him. “I wouldn’t mind living with you. At this point, you’re basically a father to me.”  
Peter thought it had been a nice sentiment. He really felt like Stark had taken over as a father figure in his life – as a caretaker.  
But Starks warm smile had gotten tighter. Just a little bit, but enough to notice. After all, Stark never had kids of his own, and never seemed interested. Maybe Peter had pushed himself into a role that Stark never was interested in having in his life.  
All embarrassment aside, Peter was happy to move in with the older man. The mansion was unbelievable, his room as big as his last apartment, and he could crawl around on the walls and on the roof without being worried about anybody seeing him. And Peter had actually dreaded living alone ever since May died. It was good that there would always be someone around, especially someone as geeky as himself. Maybe Stark didn’t want to be viewed as a father figure, but he definitively felt like family.  
Right now, Peter was at the old, abandoned skater park. It was nice doing some tricks on his board to get his mind of things, but the park was also surrounded by a bunch of abandoned building – some which were pretty high. It was a great place for swinging around a little, and running up walls and jumping between rooftops. No one came out here, and if they ever did, Peter would notice them before they noticed him. And then he could go back to just being a normal kid, doing tricks on his skateboard.  
When Peter first got his powers, he’d been scared out of his mind. They were cool and all, but he had no way of knowing how it all was affecting his body, if it could change for the worse, if it was permanent. At this time he had an internship at Stark Enterprise, and Mr. Stark himself had actually taken a liking to him. Stark had been the first – and only one – Peter had told about his powers. Who was better suited at figuring this out than Tony Stark himself – the retired Iron Man, ever since he and the rest of the Avengers saved the world for the last time. Tony had Peter examined and together they’d gotten to know the extent of Peter powers, his strength, his heightened senses, his web fluid. And the amount of food sent to Peter and May had been increased as they figured out how much Peter needs to eat to keep his super-human-body going. As Stark had helped him through it all, he’d made Peter promise him one thing:  
“Don’t go be a superhero. Let the petty thieves steal, and the good cops catch them. The one thing I’ve learned throught the years, is that when one superhero appears, two supervillains will rise from the dust. Let the little people handle themselves.”  
Peter kept that promise, because he owed it to the older man. But sometimes, he wondered if he was being loyal, or just being selfish.  
“Hey there.”  
Peter didn’t halt in the skating, just sped down the ramp at one side, up the other and spun around in the air with his knees bent and fingers clutching the board.  
“Wow, how impressive. The boy who can run up walls and lift cars can also do twirls on a plank.”  
Peter grinned as he landed and skated in a circle around the masked mercenary.  
“You must be jealous of how I can do so many things that you can’t.”  
“The only thing I’m jealous of here is your pants, and the way they’re hugging what I’m not,” Pool answered, and Peter looked down, hiding his soft smile under his hood. He licked his lips and stepped off his board, taking the hood off and looking up at the face that wasn’t a face, but the mask he’d grown so familiar to. Peters smile faded.  
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.  
“You haven’t been out here in a while,” Pool answered.  
Peter nodded. He hadn’t. He’d mourned his aunt, and almost drowned in it. Sometimes he had though of DeadPool, and missed his pointless flirting and childish jokes and crazy personality. The man could definitively had cheered Peter up, but he couldn’t get himself out of bed to meet him at the park. Neither did he want the masked man to know what had happened. He was somewhat of a friend, and good company, but Peter knew next to nothing about him, so it was best that DeadPool knew just as much about Peter. After all, the man knew of Peters powers, and that was more than anyone else knew – except from Mr. Stark. The only reason Peter had ever let the man see him, was because he was very much like Peter, in that he also had powers.  
Peter almost wished he also could put on a mask and have this secret identity where he could show the other side of himself freely. But it was safer to not. So Mr. Stark had told him.  
“I’ve been busy,” Peter said softly, avoiding DeadPools eyes as he was avoiding telling the full truth. When his words were met with silence, he glanced up to see the mercenary looking at him with his head slightly tilted. Peter wished he could see his face, just so that he could see his expression.  
Suddenly DeadPool had taken two big strides forward, and then his arms were around Peter. Peter was just standing there, stunned, with his hands barely placed against DeadPools shoulders as the bigger man held him.  
He couldn’t remember DeadPool even touching him before, let alone hug him. The man never seemed to be comfortable with close contact, no matter how openly flirty he was.  
“Missed me that much, huh?” Peter said when he came to his senses, and he gave each of Pools shoulders a squeeze in a weak show of appreciation. Pool huffed at that, and then his fingers were inching their way down Peters back. Peter quickly shoved him back, a playful grin on his face even though a nervous feeling laid like a tickle in the nape of his neck. “Watch it, Pool! I’ve got no idea what ugly mug is hiding beneath that mask.”  
Deadpool gave a weird laugh at that, and once again Peter wished he could see the man’s expression. “No,” Pool said. “I suppose you don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy, leave a comment! ^^,


End file.
